Static
by derpette-Waffle
Summary: I should've died in that crash, but then who would take care of my boyfriend? - (changing POV)
1. Chapter 1

**Dan**

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><p><em>The first thing I heard was the wailing of sirens in the distance, drawing closer. I opened my eyes, wondering what the emergency might've been. When I opened my eyes and my vision cleared, I had to swallow the initial shock when I realized, oh, this was the emergency. I saw the flashing lights out the corner of my eyes, and the brightness of them stung a bit. My head reeled and I tried to remember what had happened. Vague images flashed through my head –driving on a sunny morning, a red light, the shattering of the windshield- overlain with mine and Phil's voices arguing over how he wanted a stupid guinea pig for his birthday.<em>

_"Phil…" I groaned, remembering how my boyfriend was in the seat next to me. I twisted my head, throbbing in pain as blood dripped down my face, twisting as far as I could manage to get a look at him. He was unconscious, head hanging too far forward, hair matted down with blood and face even paler than usual. I almost vomited when I saw how he was pinned between his seat and the steering wheel._

_"Phil, wake up," I groaned, trying to keep the fear out of my voice. If he could hear me, he was conscious and obviously in a lot of pain, and he didn't need me to be scared right now. For his sake, I needed to be strong. "Phil, please, wake up. Answer me, baby, come on, wake up." Tears were falling and mixing with the blood on my face, pinprick wounds from the shattered glass of the windows. I reached out for him with one weak arm –he was cold, and I couldn't tell if he was breathing._

_I started to panic just when my door was opened easily by a paramedic. He told me to stay calm, that I would be out of there in no time. I let out something that sounded like a sob, but choked right in the middle. I tasted blood in my mouth. "No, forget about me, help him!" I whined, voice cracking as they fastened something around my neck and I was removed, carefully but quickly, from the vehicle and laid out on a gurney. I tried to make them understand that Phil was hurt and I needed to stay with him, be there for him like a good boyfriend should be._

_They had to sedate me. I was being loaded into the ambulance and Phil was still trapped in the car._

I woke up to tears dripping down my face much like blood had that day. I hated myself for that; I didn't have the money to get him a fucking guinea pig and god knows neither of us were prepared to even take care of a goldfish, but I didn't have to keep going on and on about it, calling him a child and telling him to grow up over a dumb birthday wish. I would do anything to take it back.

I turned to my boyfriend, sleeping soundly next to me in our bed. I moved closer to him, both lying on our sides now –he'd been facing away from me but it wasn't his fault. I squeezed my arm to tuck under his waist and wrap the other around his shoulders, hand splayed out on his chest. I pulled him flush against me, letting out a soft sigh against his neck, relishing in his warmth.

It had been two weeks since the accident, and in the waking hours Phil was still adjusting to getting by without use of eighty percent of his body. I helped, putting aside everything to assist him in continuing life as normally as possible. We were slipping into a sort of routine that worked well, but it of course wasn't the same. Nothing was, nor would it ever be again.

I pressed my face into his shoulder, keeping my boyfriend tight against me. I tried to fall back asleep, but sleep didn't come straight away like I'd hoped it would. My mind wouldn't rest as long as I knew that I was to blame for the accident that so horribly crippled the love of my life. I would spend forever just trying to make up for it, but no amount of apologizing would reverse the spinal injury and give Phil his body back.

Tears soaked the back of his pyjama shirt. I just hoped it would dry by morning.

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><p><em><strong>AN: Reviews = quicker updates!**_


	2. Chapter 2

"Dan… Dan…"

I must've dozed off because when I woke up, it was already late morning, almost noon. I rub at my eyes with the arm that didn't go numb under Phil's weight and pressed myself closer to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He turns his head to lean into it. "Morning, sweetheart," I yawn, still tired and not quite willing to get out of bed yet.

"Good morning…" Phil sounds as tired as I feel. I pulled him closer and tucked my face into the crook of his neck. Out of habit, I asked if he slept well. "Pretty well."

I nodded; I'd already known the answer. The codeine kept him knocked out for the night, as always. I liked to think he still needed it for the pain and mixed it into his food every night. I hugged him tight; as much as I didn't want to move from this position, we couldn't stay like that all day. "Come on." I patted his shoulder. "You spent all day in bed yesterday; think you're okay so get out of the room for a while?"

He nodded, a bit more eagerly than I'd expected. "Yeah, can you go get my chair?"

I kissed his cheek and pulled myself out of bed to retrieve the wheelchair that had somehow made its way across the room. I rolled it to rest beside the bed and locked it in place, and moved back around the bed to pull the covers off of Phil. I sighed, deep in concentration as I kneeled on the mattress and carefully pushed him toward the edge of the bed. It was no easy task getting him propped up in the chair, and not pleasant for either of us.

I managed to get him into his chair and quickly strapped him in around the hips and upper chest, moving his limbs into a proper and hopefully comfortable position.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help…" he mumbled, genuinely feeling sorry when he really shouldn't be.

I shook my head and kissed his cheek, taking a moment to fix his hair, smiling down at him affectionately. "No, you are helping. You're helping me finally get fit." I laughed and kissed him, and he kissed back. I was relieved to feel him smiling against my lips. "Now come on, let's go eat."

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><p>We were still getting into a sort of pattern following the accident, after only being back home for a week. I wheel him to the lounge and bring in two bowls of cereal, feeding Phil until he insists that I eat my own. I help him wash and change and we get ready to go for a walk. We go around the city for a few hours –that was my favorite part.<p>

We were sitting in the park, the weather decent if wet. I was sitting at one far end of a bench with Phil's chair parked next to me. I was holding his hand, squeezing it and grateful that he could still feel everything. He turned his head and smiled at me, and I smiled back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. We sat for a long moment in content silence, watching the world move around us.

"So do you think I should make a video soon?" He tilted his head back and forth, and I winced as I watched him growing antsy. It was horrible that someone so animated was now unable to move anything but his head and neck. I squeezed his shoulder to try to settle him, and he seemed to calm down.

I shrugged. "I don't know, babe, that's not really my decision to make." It would come down to whether or not he was comfortable with his subscribers seeing him in this new state, and I couldn't blame him if he wasn't. "But… they miss you already. Everyone's worried about you." I had taken over his Twitter account after the accident, and I saw every mention of people saying how they were so scared when they heard what happened and couldn't wait to see that he was okay.

He smiled, but didn't seem to quite believe me. I brought his hand up to kiss the knuckles sweetly, wishing he would believe that he really was missed even after just a few short weeks. "We're still gonna do the radio show?" I asked, eyes hopeful but he couldn't see them.

"That's the plan," he confirmed absently. I smiled at that, happy that we would at least continue that as normal. Anything we could salvage from our old life was a small assurance that I hadn't fucked up so horribly that I probably deserved to die in that crash.

But if I died, who would take care of my boyfriend?

I turned to just watch him again, frowning when I found tears in his eyes. I shook my head and stood up just to squat down in front of him. I took both his hands and stared up into his wet eyes, reaching up to wipe the tears away. "You're so strong, baby. You're gonna be just fine."

He paused, nodded and forced a smile. He bit his lip in silent plea for a kiss, which I happily obliged. I let my lips linger on his, never wanting to pull away.

"Come on. We're gonna have some fun tonight."


	3. Chapter 3

**Phil**

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><p>Dan said alcohol was all we needed.<p>

The plan was to get a little tipsy and cuddle on the couch watching bad movies. That had actually sounded like a really good night, and I was looking forward to it. When Dan came back from the shop with a lot of alcohol, I'd started to worry that he was going to go beyond tipsy. But I wanted him to have fun, however he planned to do so, so I didn't say anything against it –at first.

I watched as Dan drank more than his fair share, but he had convinced himself that we both needed to loosen up, in the safety of our own home where there would be no risk of public stupid behavior. He tried to get me to drink some more than just one beer, too, but I didn't want to get sloppy or stupid. Besides, he was doing enough "loosening up" for the both of us.

He was poking around through different beverages; two beers, a glass of wine, the equivalent of three shots of vodka or more. I wanted to tell him to take it easy, reminding him that if he passed out, I wouldn't be able to call an ambulance, but he said I shouldn't worry so much.

Dan never drank like this; I was honestly terrified that he really might drink himself sick and pass out, start vomiting and choking to death. If anything like that happened, all I would be able to do would be to scream and pray someone would hear and call 999 or come help or something. I kept both eyes on him, ready and willing to tell him to stop if he got too drunk, threaten to break up with him if it meant he'd be healthy and safe.

I had no idea why he was doing this, and it just made me worry more. I know that a lot of people drink to forget their troubles; what could Dan be so troubled by? I had to know, but I'd never get a straight answer out of him when he was this inebriated.

"I think you've had enough, babe." I wanted to physically take the drink out of his hand. He at least obliged, if only for a little while.

"Anything for you, sweet cheeks," he slurred, sitting next to me on the sofa and splaying his hand out on my thigh. I remembered his videos on the five kinds of drunk people: he definitely fit the "sexual predator drunk" the best. He was an intoxicated horndog, and honestly I was in no mood for sex when he was this out of it. I wanted to nudge the hand away, then somehow thought I could telekinetically will it off.

But then his fingers were skating up my legs, running over my jeans. "No, Dan," I told him firmly, giving him a hard stare so he'd get the idea. He didn't move and I wanted to shout at him, but his lips pressed hard to mine. He tasted like liquor and I really didn't like it. I managed to push him away, almost head-butting him in the process. "Dan, you need to stop. I think it's time for bed."

"You hate me, don't you?" He glared at me with apparent hurt in his eyes. Where the hell did that come from?

"No, of course I don't hate you; I love you, you ass." I wanted to peck his lips for reassurance, but that probably wouldn't be the best thing to do when all he wanted to do just a moment ago was get into my pants. "But you're really drunk right now and you won't remember anything in the morning. I'm still pretty sore and don't want to have sex tonight. I think it'll be best if we just go to bed. You can sleep it off and maybe when you wake up with a hangover, I'll go easy on you." I smiled at him, joking in hopes it would get him to smile too. It worked, and it was sloppy but one of his amazing real smiles that I just loved. He really shined so bright when he was genuinely happy; I wish he'd let it show more often.

He rubbed my shoulder absently, and I leaned my head over to nuzzle against the back of his hand. I craved his touch now as much as ever, but those sweet touches that just spoke love rather than lust.

"Okay, we can sleep…" He sounded tired, too. He was too drunk and sleepy to get the both of us back to the bedroom, but he managed to maneuver me to lie down on the couch, and he collapsed on top of me. He even took my arms to wrap around himself, which was just too cute, honestly. He yawned a goodnight and laid his head on my chest as he drifted off to sleep. I smiled and kissed the top of his head, planning how I would tauntingly torture him and his inevitable headache in the morning.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are you sure you're okay to do this?"

It was six weeks since the accident, and about the tenth time that day that Dan asked me that same question. I nodded, unable to bring myself to say "yes" again after stressing the answer so many times –it was starting to sound like less of a word and more like an instinctual sound, like a cat meowing. "I'm okay; I want to start filming again. It might look a little… weird at first to the viewers, but I want things to just be normal again." I knew very well that that would never happen, but I could make the most of what could be accomplished.

Dan paused and nodded reluctantly, finally setting up the camera and tripod for me. He was mumbling to himself, and I knew it was probably things I didn't want to hear, so I just tried to ignore it.

Once the camera was set, Dan helped me into a sort of small legless lawn chair that would hopefully be invisible to the audience. He strapped me to it at my waist and under my arms and helped me into some colorful shirt, the only one that would be able to fit over the back of the seat. He crossed my legs in front of me and, rather grudgingly, moved my arms where I told him to. I felt like a puppet and I didn't like it, but I'd gotten used to it. I'd had to be a lot more vulnerable with him every day since coming home, this was far from the worst of it.

Just before he left, I heard something he was saying under his breath, softly so I couldn't hear. "Go on and traumatize your viewers when they see you all limp and still."

From the look on his face, I had to figure he hadn't meant it, but something sort of snapped in me then and I couldn't bring myself to care whether he was joking or not or whatever he'd meant with it. "Please leave," I all but spat, angry and hurt but trying to not let that come through in my voice. He started, nodded mutely and walked out the door, leaving it open behind him.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down before I tried to start the video. Everything was being recorded and I'd have to look back at it later. Oh joy.

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><p>"Dan!" I'd been calling his name every once in a while for at least an hour. I didn't know which I would have preferred he'd done, left the flat or started ignoring me. I'd be angry if he was ignoring me, and probably would be hurt if he'd stepped out and left me here, because that would mean I'd really mucked up. I hadn't meant to snap at him, but what he said was hurtful –I probably should've just told him that, though, instead of sending him out of our bedroom when we had actually planned to make the video together.<p>

"Dan!" I shouted again, my voice cracking painfully this time around. Tears were starting to prick in my eyes. I had to blink them back when I heard footsteps coming toward the bedroom.

Dan appeared in the doorway, looking tired and leaning against the frame. "You finished?"

I nodded, wanting to question where he'd been when I was calling him for so long, but I couldn't blame him for needing space. He was with me 24/7 and if he needed an hour away from me –especially after how I'd spoken to him- that was perfectly understandable. He moved toward the tripod and turned the camera off. "Want me to go edit this for you?"

I bit my lip and shook my head. "We can do it together," I suggested. Though I knew that would probably only make the situation worse, I sort of secretly prided myself on always doing my own editing. I physically couldn't do it alone now, but I didn't want to let Dan do it all, either –besides, he had enough on his plate.

Dan just nodded and took the card out of the camera, sticking it into his pocket. He pulled my shirt off and started to unstrap me; he was so warm. He got me back into another shirt and lifted me up, setting me down in the wheelchair. "You're really strong…" I noted softly. He'd really built some upper body strength from having to move me between the bed and shower and sofa and wheelchair and everywhere else.

"Thanks."

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><p>We were halfway through the video. It was late and I was tired but this needed to be done, even though I absolutely couldn't focus. I'd rewatched the beginning, where I thought Dan had said something so hurtful and realized he hadn't said anything like that at all. I bit my lip and watched him worked monotonously. He looked hurt and I couldn't bear this anymore. "Dan."<p>

He didn't hear me over the audio. "Dan!" I repeated, voice breaking again.

He pulled the headphones off, removing mine as well. He looked at me with concern I hadn't quite been expecting in his mood. "Yeah, what's wrong?"

"I… About earlier… I didn't mean to be so horrible to you. You do way too much for me to receive anything but complete gratitude in return. I really am grateful, Dan, for everything. I… I thought you had said something awful to me, and you didn't, and I'm sorry."

His brow furrowed and he reach out to touch my shoulder. "What did you think I said to you?" I told him what I thought I heard, and he hugged me tight. "I would never say something like that, baby. I don't remember what I did say, but I really did want you to start making videos again. I was just worried that you didn't really want to do it and were just trying to because you wanted to please your subscribers. No, and I'm sorry I wasn't being more supportive."

He pulled away just a bit and rubbed my shoulder. "And I know you feel bad about being dependent on me. You're really bad at hiding things like that. I don't want you to feel guilty about that. You're going through enough right now that's not in your control, you don't need to feel bad about any of it. I want to take care of you because I love you."

He kissed my forehead, my nose, and my lips, and I kissed him back. "I love you, too."


End file.
